SPOILER ALERT: there might be spoilers in this.
– the nightmare never really ends, time is anything it wants to be, reality may be actively working against you; these are the sentiments I take away from season three of “Twin Peaks,” an eighteen hour tapestry that’s as frustrating as it is arresting and interesting; if you agree life is more about the journey than the destination, hop in, because we might end up at the DMV
– ask me why the original “Twin Peaks” strikes a chord with so many viewers and I’ll theorize it lies in the even braiding of various fascinating strands: the inherent kitsch of Anytown, U.S.A., the seamy underbelly of Anytown, U.S.A., the Pacific Northwest’s foggy weirdness, a police procedural, and a bevy of legitimately intriguing townies; “Peaks ’17” skews that balance as scores of principle characters and their stories are pushed aside for jaunts with new cast members, lengthy views into unsettling paranormal screen savers, or bizarre non-moments; the art to be found in the sequence where Robert Forster makes a 15 minute Skype call in real time is the lack of art
– David Lynch is critic-proof, of course; perhaps the only way his fans would cry foul is if he’d done anything conventional for the new “Twin Peaks”; that said, the decision to bury our hero, Agent Dale Cooper, in a doppelgänger story line wherein he is not himself at all for the majority of the season while relegating our other beloved icon Audrey Horne to a handful of similarly out-of-character sequences comes across in some ways as cruel (especially if this is in fact the last “Peaks” ever, as Lynch has suggested); it feels like maybe we’re being punished for enjoying these people too much
– don’t worry, we spent plenty of time with Lucy and Andy; you’ll be happy to know they’ve somehow become even stupider
– the game is afoot from the first episode, after a character declares that very unpopular “Peaks” staple James Hurley has “always been cool”; David Lynch has seen your “fuck James Hurley” memes
– when fans say “Twin Peaks: The Return” is unlike anything on television, they’re correct; it trusts its audience implicitly, assuming from them a specific brand of loyalty and intelligence; also, many of the aforementioned journeys into unexplained realms are uniquely hypnotic; the program may vex you but it’s rarely boring to look at, even when a guy is just sweeping a floor
– the remark has been made that, thanks to his role in this, Jim is now the Belushi with the more revered body of work; this is only because season three of “Twin Peaks” is longer than all of John Belushi’s films combined
– the final two episodes introduce a few wonderful and brilliantly conclusive ideas, only to pull them back and present something else; Lynch is as Lynch does, and that itself may be the true point of this coffee soaked exercise
– there are some wigs in this thing, hoo boy; Spirit Halloween shoulda been thanked in the credits; to be fair, I don’t know how to make a wig (I also don’t know how to make prestige television)
– at eighteen hours you’d think they would have found room to throw in Bill Pullman wailin’ on a saxophone but no such luck; at least we get (the) Nine Inch Nails and Edward Louis Vedder Severson
This question courtesy of my good buddy Paul R. Porkchop. Indeed, where is my rant on the nerd-shattering news that J.J. Abrams (who I think we can all agree is most famous for his writing credit on Jim Belushi’s Taking Care of Business) will be directing Star Wars The Seventh: R2’s Folly? Oh, here it is:
I don’t have much to say about Abrams being appointed new pope of Star Wars beyond he’s the boring, obvious choice for such an endeavor but I guess you can’t blame Disney / LFL for hedging their bets. J.J. makes pretty solid entertainment even when he shits the bed. Still, when you think about some of the truly inspired or inspiring choices they could have made for Episode VII, watching the “Lost” guy get it is pretty deflating. Nothing could possibly be worse than the prequels, so what do they have to lose hiring, oh, I don’t know, M. Gondry or David Fincher?
Of course, we have no way of knowing right now where Abrams landed on the list of potential SW7 directors. Maybe the Disnuts offered it to one or two or five other filmmakers before Mr. Sexy Star Trek was invited aboard. It’ll be interesting once the film comes out to hear who may have turned this sucker down or couldn’t commit due to scheduling conflicts. Has fate saved the world from witnessing Tarantino’s adrenalin-soaked take on Lando Calrissian? The mind boggles at the thought.